8. Drowned Sailor
It took another two weeks before the elusive trader finally returned to Tortuga. In the end, Rose and the others decided to take turns staying at the inn or aboard the Barnacle, either the men or the women – that way they only needed to rent one room, and with just two people aboard, the fishing boat did not feel crowded.
When they at last met him, the trader turned out to be a very short, wiry Spaniard, sporting a huge moustache. To their disappointment he had no more silver swords than anyone else.
"Silver is too soft for swords, señor Sparrow." He shook his head like the other was daft.
"Spare me the lecture," growled Jack. "You got it or no?"
"No."
"Damn."
Meanwhile, Rose curiously examined the trader's shop. It was crammed with interesting objects; jewelry and trinkets of all sizes and colors, teeth that looked like shark teeth (but some seemed suspiciously human too) and skeleton parts that Rose hoped came from animals. On a row of glass shelves were an assortment of bottles with hand scribbled labels, containing ordinary spices like cinnamon, black pepper and ground ginger, but also bizarre stuff such as crocodile dung, bull testicles, powdered mummy, virgin's blood, leopard spots, ladybug wings, dried mouse droppings, the ninth life of a curious cat, colloidal silver, pregnant women's urine, stuck noses and beetle peels.
Jack leaned over Rose's shoulder to pick up a bottle. "What are bull testicles for?" he asked the trader.
"An aphrodisiac, señor. Makes your first mate stand at attention for hours. Want to buy?"
"Nah. Got no need for that, when I'm done, the ladies usually are too worn out to have the energy for another round."
Rose felt her cheeks heat up and went to a shelf further away, feigning great interest in a porcelain shepherdess with a chipped hat while she tried hard not to picture being worn out in bed by Jack Sparrow.
"You're disgusting," said Elizabeth.
"And you're jealous."
"Am not!" She scowled at him. "The only complaint I have with my man is I can't be with him for another ten years."
"Look at this," interrupted Gibbs from a wooden crate in a dusty corner. "Silver ingots!"
"You're getting old, Gibbs, your memory's failing. It's a silver sword we need, savvy?"
"No, but you don't think clearly, Jack. We can bring these to a smith and have him forge us a sword!"
"Brilliant!" Elizabeth beamed at him.
They purchased the silver bars with gold from Rose's purse – which was becoming alarmingly light – and left the shop with a new purpose.
There were not many honest craftsmen in Tortuga, whose denizens mostly were either pirates, common thiefs, gamblers or dealers of stolen goods, and to their dismay they soon found out that the only blacksmith had been killed in a brawl over a prostitute last month.
"I know another blacksmith," said Elizabeth.
"You just want an excuse to be with your sweetheart again." Jack smirked.
"So what, if I do? We have the silver, he can make us a sword. A fine one, at that."
Since nobody had a better plan the others agreed to try Elizabeth's idea. They returned to the Barnacle with their silver, and while sharing a simple lunch of hardtack and fish soup they discussed how to proceed.
"We need to restock our drink supply before we go search for the whelp. Sorry, blacksmith." Jack fished out a piece of hardtack from his cup of rum and put it into his mouth. Hardtack, or ship biscuits as they were also called, were a long lasting waybread and a very common fare aboard. The brick hard squares were nearly impossible to chew without dunking them in liquid.
"Where to go, though? Finding Captain Turner will be no easy thing," said Gibbs. "The Flying Dutchman spends all of its time underwater, and only ever surfaces when she's collecting a newly drowned sailor."
"That's simple then. All we need is for someone to drown." Jack looked around. "Any volunteers?"
"Not me, I tried it once and did not much like it," said Rose.
"Same, actually." Jack glanced at Elizabeth.
"You didn't drown," she protested.
"I did. In the burning water of the Kraken's belly." His face was unreadable. Rose felt a pang of sympathy, drowning in cold sea water had been bad enough, she could not even begin to imagine what being dissolved in gastric acid would be like.
"Maybe we could find someone else drowning," Gibbs suggested. "Ships are sinking all the time from pirate attacks or bad weather or running aground on reefs. When it happens somewhere close, we can let Jack's compass lead us there."
"More waiting?" Jack grumbled. "This is taking far too long already."
"You don't actually have to stay," said Elizabeth. "I know how to summon Calypso now, and Gibbs can help me sail the Barnacle."
"Nah, I'll come." He fidgeted with his last piece of hardtack. "I'm not all that busy."
Rose regarded him thoughtfully. There was something he held back, some private reason he had for coming – she had suspected as much ever since he agreed to help. But what was it? If he had wanted to steal the Heart there had been many opportunities the past weeks. No, it must be something else.
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When they sailed out of Tortuga Bay with the boat's hold full of supplies and rum barrels, Gibbs explained to Rose how Jack's strange compass worked.
"You see, this be no ordinary compass that just points north," he said dramatically, entering his storyteller mode. "It's enchanted to lead the one holding it to that which he desires the most."
"We should not have brought all that rum then," said Rose sardonically.
"Or attractive women." Jack winked at her.
"Actually, it's frightfully bad luck to bring women aboard, regardless of their looks," said Gibbs.
Rose rolled her eyes and left the men, finding a seat in the prow together with Hector. She scratched his bristly neck. "Sometimes I feel surrounded by pigs," she muttered into one of his floppy ears.
They soon had left the island far behind and steered into open water. To be able to get to the drowning sailor in time – whenever there would be one – they needed to go a bit north of Tortuga where there was more traffic.
The journey was an uneventful voyage before they reached one of the popular trade routes. They anchored near an uninhabited island, and then all they had to do was wait.
.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.
Laying anchored really was no fun at all. It was crowded, it was boring, the pig dirtied the deck and in general everybody just got on everybody's nerves. It did not help that someone always had to be watching the compass, and though they took turns, it still was extremely tedious to stare for hours at end at a spinning needle.
The fare got a lot more dull too, since they could not buy anything fresh.
"I am so sick of this sawdust-bread," Rose complained after the first week, looking at the brown square in her hand. Even soaking it in rum did nothing for its taste or structure.
"You're such a spoiled princess," Jack muttered.
"I happen to be of fine family, you oaf."
"Rude."
She then gave him the scorching glare Elizabeth had taught her, the one where you pictured the other's underwear on fire. Imagining Jack with burning pants turned out to be amusing. He could be quite the drama queen, and if something like that happened to him he would probably hop around yelling before making an elegant dive into the sea. The comic images had her smile, which of course totally ruined her glare.
"What's so funny?"
"Nothing."
It took another tedious week before the waiting was finally over. The weather had been rough for two days, with a heavy wind making the Barnacle toss and turn in the waves, and Rose had at last overcome her seasickness and managed to fall asleep when Elizabeth cried out in excitement.
"The needle, it stopped spinning! A ship is sinking!"
An instant flurry of activity commenced. They weighed the anchor and set sails in record time, and were soon racing in the direction the compass pointed, climbing crests and falling into troughs in a bouncy roller-coaster ride. Rose felt sick again and lost the last of her hardtack meal over the railing.
It took almost an hour until they saw their goal at a distance. The ship was easy to spot despite the darkness and cloudy weather as it was burning heavily, and over the howling of the wind they heard faint cries. It was a large three-master, two of which were entirely engulfed in flames.
"Pirate attack," hollered Gibbs. "But them who did it seem to have left already, thank goodness."
Rose clutched the railing, staring at the horrible scene they rapidly approached, and suddenly the reality of it struck her with full force. This was no adventure, no exciting quest to find the Dutchman. Actual human beings were fighting for their lives on that ship, and it would sink just like the Titanic had, and the sailors would drown just like she had. It was not right.
She grabbed the person closest, which happened to be Jack. "We can't do this!" she yelled to make herself heard.
"What?" He stared at her like she had lost her mind.
"We can't let them die! We can't just watch them drown!"
He turned his gaze from her face to the ship, where they could now make out individual faces of the panicking men running around, shouting to each other in a foreign language. Some of them were desperately trying to reach a dinghy, but it was tied to the side of the ship and large flames erupted between the men and the small boat.
"Damn. Damn your bloody conscience. Damn my bloody conscience." Still pouring out curses, one nastier than the other, Jack pulled off his vest, boots, gun and sword, pressing them into Rose's arms. "Hold my effects." He climbed the railing and dived into the murky waves in a smooth motion, swimming towards the sinking ship with strong strokes.
"What's he doing?" cried Elizabeth, who had just managed to haul the sails and turn the Barnacle. They were bobbing on the waves a hundred feet or so from the burning wreck.
"He's saving them." Rose dropped Jack's belongings on the deck and grabbed Elizabeth's arms earnestly. "We have to help him!"
Understanding dawned in the other's eyes. "Yes. Yes, of course." She frowned. "Much as I want to find the Dutchman, this way is wrong. What were we thinking?" She ran back to the boat's stern where they had been towing Gibb's dinghy along with them, calling out to him in passing. "Take the wheel, hold her close but not too close. We don't want to catch that fire."
Elizabeth and Rose climbed down into the smaller vessel, the former grabbing the oars. The wind gave them speed, coming at the dinghy from behind. The ocean was wild and large around them and to Rose their boat felt ridiculously small and weak. Water splashed over its sides with every wave and soon their feet were inches deep in water.
"Is it safe to continue in this storm?" she yelled.
"Storm?" Elizabeth laughed wildly. "This is barely more than a breeze. Wait until you've been in a real storm, fighting pirates and cursed sailors while being nearly sucked into a whirlpool."
Feeling somewhat reassured, Rose turned to watch the burning ship. Jack had reached it now, he had climbed up and was struggling to cut loose their tied up dinghy with his knife. The ship was sinking rapidly and very soon the dinghy no longer hung above the surface, but floated at an awkward angle, still tied to the ship on one side.
The distressed sailors huddled together near the aft where the deck still was intact. Elizabeth steered the dinghy their way, and was shortly after joined by Jack who had finally managed to release the other one. With a thud the two dinghies connected with the hull of the larger ship and Rose reached out to grab it, keeping them steady.
The men poured down to them in quick succession, and the dinghies became a chaotic mess of flailing arms and legs.
"Calm down! One at a time!" Elizabeth yelled, but they did not listen. In their panic they were nearly fighting each other to get over the railing, and then one lost his grip and fell into the water. He sank below the surface without a sound.
Jack did not hesitate, with another of his elegant dives he went after the afflicted man. It did not take long before he popped up again, towing the other flailing and spluttering back to the dinghy. With joint effort, Rose and one of the sailors hauled the man to safety.
She was just reaching out for Jack, when a hideous creaking made her look up to see the burning mainmast come falling down over them. Rose threw herself backwards just in time, the huge object missed her head with merely inches to go. It hit the water beside the dinghy with a splash and a hissing cloud of steam as the fire extinguished. The resulting ripples caused the small vessel to roll so violently it nearly threw off its many passengers.
"Jack!" called Rose, scanning the dark waves, but the steam obscured her vision. Had he been hit by the mast? "Jack!"
Suddenly she saw something red. It was the scarf he wore tied around his hair! The rest of him was floating face-down below the surface.
Rose clumsily jumped into the water, again immensely thankful for her pants as she began to swim. The waves felt much larger when she was in the middle of them, and they kept crashing squarely into her face. For the first time she got really frightened for her own life. This was too horribly familiar, a twisted déjà vu, complete with a nearby sinking ship and a man named Jack gone under.
She fought to reach the red scarf, but the waves kept pushing her back. It had not been far but felt like it took forever to get close.
Then she was there at last, grasping Jack's limp body and pulling it up. To her immense relief the dinghy had come after her, or she might have drowned there with him, every ounce of energy spent. Now strong hands helped her and Jack back aboard where she fell in a heap, gulping air.
The boat rocked as someone manned the oars and began to take them back to the Barnacle. Rose hardly noticed it. As soon as she had caught her breath, she focused on the prone body splayed out on the deck.
Jack's face was still, peaceful almost, like he was sleeping. Swallowing a terrified sob, Rose fell on her knees beside him. There was no movement at all, no raising and sinking of his chest, and when she laid her palm on the soft skin over his heart she felt nothing.
Then the sailors screamed in terror, gawking at something behind Rose. A large form had emerged from the deep; a dark ship with seaweed covered sails.
The Flying Dutchman had arrived.
A/N:
Short note today only: Have a nice weekend, kthxbye! *waves and runs*
PS. The movie I mentioned in the last chapter was Forrest Gump, well spotted Guest!
Thanks for your reviews Guest and 8Ball3. :)